When Spell Freezes Over (All My Exes Die From Hexes Book 4)

by Killian McRae

  Jerry’s back straightened. “What do you mean?”

  “Hey!” Molly’s throaty outburst made them all turn. “Don’t want to interrupt, but I’m not exactly getting any younger over here and the drugs they gave me for the pain are starting to wear off. Riona.”

  Her hands motioned to her daughter, inviting her to sit on the edge of the bed. Riona did so, leaving Molly framed on one side by the Angel of Death, and on the other side by her daughter.

  “I may not have always raised you right, but I raised you smart. You remember that. Trust your instincts. If anyone can stop Michael, it’s you. And as for that husband of yours.” The old woman managed to wink. “He’s a looker, and you won’t be young forever. You ride that pony every chance you get.”

  Riona’s face went stark white. “Mother!”

  “What, it’s not like you’re a delicate, sensitive flower. Don’t try to fool me; I know what kind of life you led. And you...” She pointed at Jerry. “You’re going toe-to-toe with that other one—” she quickly indicated Marc “—but he’s already got one over you. He died to save her, but that ain’t going to be your job. Your job is going to be living to keep her safe. Got it?”

  Jerry faked a military salute. “Got it, ma’am.”

  “Good, now...” Molly’s other shaking hand reached for the angel on her right. “Unless there’s a Virginia Slim with my name on it, take me. I’ve done what I was sent here to do.”

  And just like that, she was gone.

  Riona collapsed over her mother’s body, weeping, but Jerry noticed Marc’s falter. He looked as though he were going to fall, but caught himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. Ramiel, pulling his head out of his ass, went to his former friend.

  “What’s wrong?”

  With wide eyes, Marc looked at the angel. “Her soul. I... I felt it move... through me.”

  “Of course you did.” Ramiel leaned in and lowered his voice. “The devil always knows his own.”

  Chapter 16

  Persephone had hoped for dozens. She’d had been thrilled with enough to form a centurion. Much to her surprise, two hundred arrived, ready to stand with her, ready to serve in the battle.

  “Have there been this many of us feeling this way for so long?”

  She’d ordered Hermes not to shield the message; she wanted everyone fully aware of what she was proposing. This wasn’t meant to be a fervent outcry or political statement. No, the Nephilim were going to destroy the Council of Seven, every last one of them. And they were going to start with the one who had usurped her throne and taken over Hell.

  Well, technically, Hades’s throne. She may have been his queen in Hell, but he was its sovereign. Feeling the lightning in her veins tickling the surface of her skin, wanting release, she was pretty sure that reality was about to flip as well.

  Hades flanked her as they stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the Olympus Valley below. The town had held steady at about one thousand residents for several hundred years, but at least half of those were either invited human residents or demigods who’d retired from the mortal world and wanted to be among family. Along the peripheries, campfires and tents gave the central settlement a hearty expansion.

  “There have always been those who desired action, even in the earliest days of this, our tapered existence,” Hades said. “But your father believed we’d lost so many in the rapture, he’d not chance a single more life for something as petty as revenge. He was a man of discipline and conservative thought.”

  “Except when he thought with his dick.”

  Of the two, Persephone had always been the outspoken one. Raised in a more formal era, Hades maintained well-structured repartee. Except when they were in the bedroom, where the talents of his tongue were not limited to its implement to provide sexual gratification.

  She shooed away those thoughts and turned to more practical matters. “How do I command an army? I have as much military acumen as I have with knitting.”

  “How many times have I told you? Pearl one, bead two. And don’t worry about commanding troops. I’ve done plenty of that before as well.” He’d reminded her as much for the prior two days as more and more of the community had flowed into town.

  “Ah, yes, but you can’t enter Hell. At least, not until I do and kill an angel.”

  His arm hooked her at the hip as he pulled her hard into his chest. “Have I ever told you how sexy this bloodthirsty side of you is?”

  He had. Repeatedly. According to Hades, she was also sexy when she wrote out checks, held a martini, and stared at paint drying. What could she say? The man was insatiable where she was concerned. Passion had never been missing from their relationship. What had been missing was her ability to control her own fate, to decide the whats, for how longs, and with whos. The kind of control that Ramiel had been all too happy to grant her.

  The angel’s face flashed in her mind, and before she could stop herself, she pushed thoughts of her angelic beau into Hades’s subconscious. Immediately, the deposed Lord of the Underworld went rigid, his eyes burning and his grip on her hips, crippling.

  Persephone pushed down the pain. “Surely you’re not attempting to injure your queen, are you, dear?”

  “How can you call me ‘dear’ in the same moment when you remember calling him your lover?”

  His teeth gnashed for a moment, before he released all the anger boiling in him in a rough kiss filled with possession and desire. It endured far longer than it should, and pulled a buffet of feeling from her. After a moment, she pushed him away and slapped him.

  “You no longer have any claim over me, Hades, and I don’t owe you any explanations. I am your queen. You’d do well to remember all these, at all times.”

  He sank back, bowing his head in obeisance. “Yes, my queen.”

  “I need to rest.” She gathered her ladies in waiting and turned from the room. “We leave for the mortal realm at dawn. You’re certain there’s a hellgate in Los Angeles?”

  “I am. I’ve had my Cerberi keeping tabs on the gates through their connections for centuries.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  He trekked down the mountain then, away from what had been his brother’s palace for eons and in to the village. All around, lesser gods and greater men dotted the periphery of his path, all keen to point, whisper, and force him to wallow in his public shame. Here be Hades, who always hungered for the throne but lost it to his ex-wife. A god who could not control his goddess was hardly better than a mortal man. He played the part, letting dejection color his expression. He walked on. The humiliations he’d suffered would all be worth it in the end.

  Especially when he rammed a heavenly blade through the heart of Ramiel’s soul.

  Past the villas, past the villages. Past the occasional Nephilim still walking from Elysian Fields from the Athens gate, on a sojourn to the mountain to meet their queen’s call for vengeance.

  Past the bend in the path, and to a speckled boulder out of common view.

  “Azazel!” Hades called out his name without fear. “We must speak.”

  An eerie voice seeped through the stone, the sound distorted by the hum of the rock. “The way is shut. It was made by those who are Dead. And the Dead keep it.”

  “I told you more times than the moon has faces, Azazel, I don’t care for your Tolkien references. I detested those books. I made this door, and my death, though long foretold, has not yet come to pass. Now come to the entrance that we may speak. There is news.”

  With a wave of his hand, the boulder face melted, parting and reforming into a gilded arch. A hint of sulfur rose from the air within. Hades peeked in, looking beyond where the sunlight from overhead permeated, seeking the face of his conspirator. He wished he could enter, but the dictates of the accords made the feat impossible. Soon that would change. Soon, he’d cross the threshold, climb down to where the path met the bejeweled throne room from which he ruled the underworld, and he’d be king once more.

  A form
took shape before his eyes, a shimmering green mist that sprouted legs and grew arms. Watching an angel become flesh had once been an entertainment; now he wished nothing more than to see the process in reverse by his hand. When the form solidified, however, it was not Azazel starring at him, but that of another whose very existence he once feared.

  “Michael.”

  “In the flesh. For the moment, anyhow.”

  “But I summoned Azazel. I...” Hades swallowed hard, trying to quell his own nerves. “Apologies, Prince. I am certain that Azazel’s trust in you will reflect my own. I did not mean to disrespect.”

  “You think Azazel trusts me, do you?” The angel folded his arms and leaned to the side. “Now, isn’t that quaint. You’ve no need to fear me, Hades. I have no desire for your death. I know the critical role you will play in what’s to come. Though, I must say, that you let my daughter escape your realm so easily does not please me. Was it not part of the plan that she would be retained in Olympus until such time as I called for her to be brought into the Underworld?”

  The weakening of Hades’s posture must have given away his guilt.

  “Do you know how long Azazel and I have planned this series of events?” Michael continued. “Almost thirty years. I would hate to think it’s all going to—if you’ll excused the pun, go to Hell because my half-human daughter proved too wily for the God of the Earth to control.”

  “Azazel bade me to trap her in a prison of earth. Unfortunately, Riona proved to have skills that I did not anticipate. That he did not anticipate.”

  “Luckily for both of us, Hades, demons can be trusted to follow directions.”

  Enough stalling. He must say what he came to say, and be upon his way lest they be discovered. “Sire, Persephone is still behaving as predicted, but it is coming quicker than I anticipated.”

  This time the angel’s brow lifted. “Really? How soon?”

  “Two nights hence, sire. They leave for Los Angeles in the morning.”

  “Good.”

  “Good, sire?” Hades asked, wondering if the plan on the Fallen’s side had changed. “We’d anticipated two weeks.”

  “You and Azazel anticipated two weeks, and you did so thirty years ago, when international travel was more cumbersome. Now with this Internet thing the humans have, your Nephilim forces have been able to converge on Olympus with much greater efficiency and ease than you planned.” The angel looked beyond Hades, into the sky that had begun to darken around the edges. “I never would have dreamed they’d have come so far in a generation. Yet, for all the good their deeds have created, the ease with which their impulse become actions has led to just as much bad. Persephone is already planning to invade? Good. Not a moment to spare. My daughter’s role in this is critical, and the longer she’s left to anticipate what it may be, the less likely it is she will play it.”

  He turned his attention back to Hades. “Which of the Fallen will you have Persephone kill? You do remember that’s a requirement, yes? That she kill on foreign soil, as it were.”

  “I do, sire, but you confound me. Last I spoke with Azazel, he instructed me to direct Persephone to my old Cerberi pens, saying that Lucifer was being held there and would be easily slain thus.”

  Michael’s face curled into a swarthy grin. “I fear that will no longer work. You see, Lucifer is dead.”

  “Dead?” How were the accords even still holding if such was true?

  “Yes, and the office of devil passed to Azazel’s son. No matter. Lucifer may have thought he was outsmarting us, but his little plan has only aided our cause.”

  “In what way, sire?”

  “Just because he is the devil does not mean he is no longer under Azazel’s command. Think what you will of Ramiel, Hades, but he does not lack intelligence. By now, he will have likely figured out why I begot a prophet, and will have advised my daughter to stay safely guarded in the mortal realm. Marc will assure that she ignores that advice. Then, once Persephone is also overpowered—”

  Hades’s jaw worked. “I agreed to this arrangement with the understanding that I need only sacrifice my brother in order to regain Hell. If you kill my wife as well—”

  “Quell your tongue, Hades. In war, you cannot decide who lives or dies. I will make every effort only to injure your wife, but I have not lost so much and planned so long just to salve your heart. If you wish to ensure your beloved’s survival, enter the underworld the moment the accords fall. You still retain power to move earth, do you not? To travel through it as though walking on a trodden path?”

  “That, and little else,” he confirmed.

  “Then move it. Make it deliver you to Hell-A in haste. But remember, I make no guarantees of Persephone’s safety, and I make less a promise regarding yours. Stay out of our way until we have reached the heavenly realm, or die the master of dust and ash.”

  Chapter 17

  Jerry almost fell out of bed. Having your wife slobbering all over your bare chest was one thing, but opening your eyes and finding the devil glaring down at you was another.

  “Jupiter and Mars!” Jerry gasped. “What in the Hell, Marc?”

  “Shhh!” Marc pushed a finger to his lips. “Don’t wake her.”

  “Oh, believe me, she isn’t waking up for a few hours.”

  Taking a cue from his half-brother, Marc spoke at a normal volume, despite the fact that it was three in the morning. “Did you use a sleep charm on her?”

  “Yeah, the Ambien hex.” He maneuvered the redhead to her side of the bed and pulled the blankets back up. Riona rolled over, letting out a snore that could raise the deaf, dumb, and dead. “Hopefully she doesn’t need to make any sudden moves, because one of those generally knocks her out for about nine hours.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She used one once before when we were together,” he admitted. “I mean, the first time. She didn’t want to do it this time, but I convinced her. She was inconsolable. I guess you would be when your mother dies. Don’t know, didn’t get the chance with mine. What do you want?”

  “There’s someone at the door.”

  Jerry bolted out of bed. “What? Who?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t answered. I was hoping he’d go away but he’s been knocking for fifteen minutes and I don’t think he’s going to give up.”

  “Can’t be a hellbeast. The charms wouldn’t let him through. Must be someone in the know, though. No doubt they’ve spotted the demon parked across the street and aren’t leaving the house’s protective charms because of it.”

  “We should answer it then, don’t you think?”

  “No, we shouldn’t answer it, because this isn’t our house. You don’t live here.”

  “Cut your semantics, ass.”

  Just then, a series of insistent, drilling knocks crawled upstairs. Jerry grabbed a pair of boxers off the floor and shimmied them over his heels, past his knees, and over his hips. Marc felt nausea boil his stomach juices.

  “You sleep next to her nude?”

  “She is my wife, priest. Also, if you’re still hearing confession, forgive me, Father, but we had quite a few impure thoughts that led to even more wicked acts.”

  “You took out your animal pleasures on her while her soul was retching?”

  Marc pushed past him and started down the stairs. “You’re going to make a sucky devil, you know that? FYI, Marc: Hell doesn’t exactly conform to a moral standard. I know you haven’t spent much time there yet, but I did, for two thousand years. I can guarantee you of that. Still, no matter what your church convinced you of, brother, sex isn’t just about animal urges. It isn’t about an O.”

  “No orgasm, then? I hear that’s a problem for old men like you.”

  “What, me?” Jerry held a delicate hand to his chest in shock as the other reached the front door and wrapped around the handle. “I had two. She had three.” He turned the knob, ready to hex whatever unfriendly thing might be standing there, but was surprised to find a familiar—hopefully frien
dly, face.

  “Chipper?”

  The weredog, though with muscles the size of a small city, looked tiny and confused. If he’d been in his dog form, Jerry was pretty sure he’d be huddled in a ball, with his tail between his legs.

  “Mr. Romani, I’m so sorry to be here in the middle of the night like this, but is Mr. Zitka...”

  A light over the stairs went on. A T-Rex inspired thud proceeded Dee’s entry.

  “Yeah, I’m here Chip. What’s up?”

  “Thank the gods, Mr. Zitka.” The bouncer bounded in without invitation. “I’m sorry about coming here like this, I just didn’t know where else to go. Is it safe to talk about family business around...” He pointed vaguely at Marc and Jerry.

  “Probably not, but I’m too love drunk to worry about proper protocol at the moment. Why, what’s wrong? My club manager was supposed to be handling Dante’s while we were away. Something happen?”

  “Nothing to do with the club.” Chipper ran a hand through his hair. “We got summons from Steph today. All us Cerberi did. They want us to fly in to LA tomorrow night. Word is, we’re invading the Underworld.”

  Both Marc and Jerry’s jaws dropped to the floor.

  Jerry stumbled his way to vocal aptitude. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

  “Persephone is calling us to war,” Chipper repeated. “It’s the craziest thing I ever heard. Take back the Underworld now, after all these eons and from a pack of raving mad fallen archangels?”

  “I believe a group of angels is called a host,” Dee corrected. “It’s lunacy. Please tell me you and the others aren’t going.”

  Chipper stood up straighter than an Amish farmer. “Of course, we’re going. My kind have been faithful to the House of Hades for eons. If they command, we serve, no matter how fucked up in the head of an idea it is.”

  “You have to admire a dedicated soldier,” Marc said to himself. Then, turning to Dee, he added, “You know your sister best. Why would she do this? What is she attempting to accomplish?”